


Town

by nanjcsy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure Elements, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Blood and Gore, Dark Comedy, Domestic Violence, Insanity, Inspired by AHS, Inspired by Eli Roth, Inspired by Richard Laymon, Inspired by Stephen King, Kill or be killed, Multi, Nannerverse, Phobias, Recreational Drug Use, Scary Clowns, Small town secrets, Supernatural Elements, Survival Horror, Swearing, Torture, Unreliable Narrator, coulrophobia, pareidolia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/nanjcsy
Summary: A small town that thrives. Hidden off a highway, barely marked upon the maps. However the town has its own map and its own private demons.In order to keep their secrets and their town...sacrifices must be made every twenty years. It is time and a certain cul de sac is about to fall into insanity and chaos.





	1. Elders Always Know Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small town that thrives. Hidden off a highway, barely marked upon the maps. However the town has its own map and its own private demons.  
> In order to keep their secrets and their town...sacrifices must be made every twenty years. It is time and a certain cul de sac is about to fall into insanity and chaos.

A thumbnail yellowed by nicotine and thickened by time flicked at a thick dry bottom lip. Hal shifted his weight to his other foot. His eyes narrowed on his own wife nibbling Gladys's fucking fruitcake.

"Well, lets not all keep pretending this is a fucking council meeting. Sit the hell down, Gladys, no one wants your damned fruitcake. Told you that for at least forty years now."

The milling stopped and Gladys glared at Hal Sampson.

"Excuse me? Don't take your upset out on my baked goods, you gin soaked asshole!" 

Like ruffled hens, Gladys and the ladies take their seats. Everyone finds a seat and looks at their own feet or at the ceiling. No one wants to be here.

Not Hal at the small stage, he looks ready to bolt any moment. This isn't the usual bullying self assured rich entitled prick that roams town. This isn't the big shot lawyer and father of golden kids with his sleek second younger wife.

He looks older suddenly, the lights are making him sweat. He yanks at his tie and ignores his wife's supportive looks in the front seat.

"Look. We are all on edge. This is our first time and our obligation. Every generation has to pass the torch and it's our turn. The same as every time before us. You know the rules. But let's go over it all one more time."

Hal cleared his throat and now that he was orating, he calmed somewhat. He discreetly felt his pulse and reminded himself to breathe deeply. Recalling his anger management classes, his parole officer, his very discreet therapist, Hal calms down.

He shall lead these folks through this smoothly. This is what having power meant, sometimes it came with a  heavy price. They must all remember that. He shall remind them.

"We all understand what it means to stay in this town. And we all understand why we chose to stay here. If this traditional sacrifice doesn't happen..."

Everyone rustled slightly then looked up at Hal.

"Each of us were handed this responsibility by our families and now we must not fail them. We cannot fail our town, it isn't an option. Its a case of all or a few. So I am going to take attendance and let's get the painful part done with dignity and respect for everyone within our town."

This was the worst right here perhaps, being exposed even to each other. All hunched further down or froze.

"We know Gladys is here. Raise your hand or stand up or do the fucking conga, just respond."

Hal's awkward embarrassed joke fell flat and he hurried to call attendance.

"Bunny, my wife of course, uh...Bob, Philip, Karen . All here, great. Each of you represent a portion of our town. You will cast your stone onto the map. If your stone glows...whichever area it chooses will be closed off for three days. There will be no assistance given in any way."

Hal walked with reluctant steps towards the side door and gestured for the others to follow. Bunny full out moaned and they all seemed to force themselves to follow into the room. They all entered what seemed to be a stone carved room, torches hung on the walls for light. It was disorienting and the thick smoke that hung didn't help.

Bob shook his head and coughed, waving the smoke out of his face. This was so ridiculous, he despised following this damned charade. In spite of his parents telling him several times of this ritual, he has never believed them. He is here because it was his father's dying wish for him to do so.

"Bob. Even if you don't believe, please go. I know you feel everything is explained by your logic and science..but trust me. There is more to this world. Beyond this small town and you should have gone to it and stayed there. You should never have stayed here, I urged you so many times to not come back. But you did and know you have to follow tradition or this whole town will pay for it! You will know, they will contact you and you must go! You have to...there are rules and penalties! All must cast their stone!"

So instead of relaxing at home for one fucking second before work or his dying father or his clinging mother needed him, here he was.  

"Are we going to be putting on hoods with eye holes, drink punch or just share a turkey leg naked? What the hell is this shit, Hal?"

Hal didn't answer but no hoods or punch nor a turkey leg were produced. Instead they all crowded around a sunken pit that glowed. Just set within the pit was a onyx map of their town with line of pulsing lava light between the cracks representing the divisions of the town.

Clearing his throat again, then another impulsive clearing before Hal spoke again.

"Does everyone have a stone ready? Put it in your hands."

With a strangled sound Karen pulled her stone from her purse then muttered.

"It can't be my area again. It's the poorest area, it can't take another hit. I am pulling like a fucking bull to get those projects torn down and this won't help any. It will cause riots just like it did the last time, dammit. You all know that!"

Hal sighed as he caressed the smooth rock that he hated. It was small but it felt heavy in his hands. Normally Hall enjoyed using weights, carrying heavy things to impress or for play. This was a loathsome sticky kind of heavy, one he will feel long after its gone.     

"Damn it, Karen, don't start. No one wants it to be their area! Sorry you have the worst part of town! You think I like the idea of my upper class neighborhood going to hell because of my toss? My friends and family are there, small children live there! Or think of Gladys, all the schools, parks and the library? If it hits her area you think they won't destroy everything she has made? You think during the day someone won't enter the schools and-"

"That is enough! I can't take this! Let's just finish it alright? We have no choice. We aren't killers, but we have a duty to do. That is what your damned tradition says, right? So let's just get it done with, yeah? Some of us are dead tired and need to sleep soon." 

Hal stared at Bob and wondered what was in the mind of the antisocial high school science teacher. Phillip came forward and he patted Bob's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. If you don't believe or you do it won't matter soon. Now shut the fuck up."

Phillip represented the blue collar section, the folks that worked and played hard, trying to live the best they can. Nodding, Hal looked at the others.

"Everyone runs the same risk and could feel the same tragedy. On the count of three, please."

The stones were tossed on three and sighs or hollers of relief followed. Bob watched as his stone glowed fiercely, having moved on its own by the drifting lava light to his section of town. It circled slowly around a small cul de sac area. The other stones floated lazily about. He shrugged.

"Sooo...is that it? We are done here?"

Hal looked at Bob with a twisted smile of relief and pity all at once.

"You still don't understand, even after knowing, seeing it all these years. Wow. You should just go home then and forget about it. Just remember the rules. No one will assist the chosen area. Trying to leave town, telling the others in the chosen area, assisting anyone else in leaving, you and your family as well as those you assisted will die. We will have those who shoot quite well watching all the barricades. Three days of silence. It starts tomorrow morning. We will announce some small disaster that allows us to barricade the area, same as it's always done. If it means anything Bob, we are sorry. After watching after your parents all this time, your father dying in the hospital and now this."

Gladys patted Bob's shoulder and gave a smarmy smile as her ferret eyes signaled her triumphant relief.

"Some advice, dear? If you wish to survive, lock your house down. Lock each member into their own room with a bucket, water and some food. Three days. That's all."

"Yeah, okay, I'm done with this bullshit. Okay, its fucking stupid. I'm sick of the pranking and joking around. I have debunked this stupid thing for half my life and you drag me here for this? While my father is dying? Sick..just sick. I'm leaving now. I'm fucking done with your high school games. We are in our fucking sixties! Enough with this shit!"

The others just watched as Bob stormed out. Gladys shook her head and brightly chirped out,

"Does anyone want more fruitcake?"


	2. Drunk Racoon

The Cooper children sat on their front porch giggling at what had to be the most exciting thing ever to happen on Web St.

A large sleek racoon seemed somehow genteel in how he staggered off the curb onto the street. He slowly straightened himself, gave a tiny shake that tilted him once more. His head was sideways and he seemed to focus upon the children across the street.

Giving a quick swipe to his whiskers that whacked his nose, the racoon seemed to nod at them. Then it tried to straighten and walk away. Billy pictured the racoon with a bow tie and a top hat. That only made him laugh harder.

The racoon fell on it's side and seemed to just be content with street this as his bed. A sound of a door opening and then their mother's predictable gasp.

"Oh no! Not again with the trash...wait, are those.."

"Drunk animals! Ma! Drunk raccoons, possums and see Mr. Neely's cat?"

Not to be outdone by his sister Penny, Hunter hollered.

"Hey Ma! Notice the only animal that IS NOT there drunk..is a skunk?"

Amid the collection of groans and whacks, Hunter smiles proudly at his father's approving visage over his mother's thin shoulder.

"Nice pun, son. And what the fiduciary is all this? Looks like the Murhpy kids tried to toss their mom's box wine out. As always, they didn't secure the damned tops or their trash barrels...now we have drunk wildlife. And Sarah, children, this is a warning for you. This is why they say to never feed wildlife, because they will come back looking for more. Now every night these woodland creatures and all their friends that they tell will show up. All of them seeking the grand elixir of box wine! Where does that end? Will they start sniffing around here for my imported beers? Will they eventually mug a group of college kids having a bonfire for their cheap can beers? We might start having to endure wild animal parties on our rooftops."

Sarah groaned along with the children and shoved past her husband.

"Want coffee, Phil? No, I'll get it, you stay out here with the kids. Get all your puns out before you come in."

The kids groaned louder and Sarah grinned as she heard Lonnie yell to her.

"Why do we get punished?"

 

Billy looked up and interrupted the start of the pun war.

"Uh, should we tell them?"

They all looked down at the youngest Cooper in horror. Phil hunkered down next to his son and patted his head.

"They are going to figure it out any second and we all know that they are not morning folks. It would be risky and think of all the poor drunk animals! Not only is a very loud lady about to come out but she would try to chase us in anger and that might get them squished! They are all too drunk to move fast like us. Do you want the Murphy's to stomp all those poor drunk furry souls to death?"

Billy shook his head after a moment of thought.

"That would be terrible. Well, maybe we should move them all off her lawn? And get the racoon off the street?"

Hunter and Penny agreed. Lonnie rolled his eyes which was as close to a yes anyone ever received from him. Phil sighed and straightened up.

"Fine. After I get my coffee. Why don't you go in the garden shed and get me my work gloves and a plastic bag? And a shovel. I'm gonna scoop them all in a bag and leave it open in the woods. They can all figure it out from there. Shame walks in the woods today, folks."

Sarah returned with two cups of coffee just as the door across the street banged open.

"MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKING CUNT BAG NAZI WAFFLE DOUCHE NUGGETS!"

Another bang and a second voice.

"Why are you fucking screaming out here like a fucking lunatic now? Oh shit!"

 

Penny looked up solemnly at her father and mother.

"If we all would speak like that our swear jar would be so full we could take two trips to Disney a year."

Sarah smirked down at her only daughter with a smile full of love.

"If you start swearing like that, I'll make a twerking video and post it to your facebook page."

"Have to say, I do like the Nazi Waffle part. That is new and somewhat interesting if worrisome." Phil added as he sipped his coffee.

Billy moved back until he nearly threw his mother off balance and her coffee on his little blonde head.

"Last week when Mrs. Murphy dropped her groceries in a big puddle she called it a Clown Tickling Kitten Blower. But I think it was because the kindergarten kids were walking by."

The racoon has rallied at the screaming and was back on his feet. He started to crawl in a zig zag pattern onto the Cooper's lawn. It fell over Billy's discarded bike and began to release it's bowels in great content.

"AW, CLOWN NAZI KITTEN FUCKER!" Billy screamed in frustration drawing attention from not just his own family but the murderous Mrs. Murphy.


	3. Pop Tarts and Crafting Demons

Pauline jogged up her cobblestone path through her garden and into her home. The smell of microwaved pop tarts assaulted her nostrils and outraged them into a flare.

"Well, I had a funny story to tell about our neighbors but it seems the mice play when the cat is away. Who has the pop tart? Fess up, I can smell it."

Gage looked up guiltily from his book and then shoved the rest of the forbidden sugar laden treat into his mouth. He chewed in determination and a desperate sort of pleasurable defiance. Shaking her head, lips pursed in disapproval, Pauline waited until he finished swallowing. 

"And what happens when that sugar crash takes you down during an academic class? Who will you turn to for notes to make sure you didn't miss anything while you were fighting a nap during fractions? What if you are at gym and your body gets all heavy and clumsy? Maybe stop reading so much junk and crack a real book sometime. You'd read about the dangers of sugar for yourself then. You think I make this stuff up to harm you, Gage?"

Cringing under the relentless attack of angry mother mouth words, Gage broke.

"It's what Matt made us for breakfast."

Pauline sighed heavily.

"Why did Matt make breakfast today? Where is Sam?"

With a grin that looked like a picket fence, the third grader gave up his juicy gossip.

"Sam is watching Greg do his exercises in the picture window again so Matt had to get breakfast for us."

Muffling a curse, Pauline stormed into the living room to see Sam nearly drooling on the picture window. Sitting on the floor near her was Pauline's youngest. Pointing at Sam and giggling the five year old blurted out the headlines with sadistic glee.

"Juice head is here, Mama. Sam is watching. I got a pop tart. Matt gave it."

Pauline nodded and debated upon taking away the half eaten pop tart and decided that battle wasn't worth it. Instead she waved her youngest towards the kitchen. She watched the little girl clutch the treat like a treasure and flee.

She headed for her eldest and most exasperating daughter. The spectacle Pauline saw over Sam's shoulder was certainly a usual one, sadly. At least twice a week the grandson of the sweet elderly couple next door decides to pull a muscle man act in the window.

He loved to see Sam drool over his lifting of weights and he always keeps on jogging shorts. But his chest is oiled down and bare. There is also the fact that Sam is only sixteen and Greg is twenty three. Then again, Pauline has never heard or seen Greg flirt with her daughter in any other way.

Sometimes on really bad days, Pauline has fancied that maybe the show was for her.

"Stop drooling at that man and get ready for school, young lady! Matt gave the children pop tarts for breakfast so you could enjoy your little show. Well, its over because I am done watching this. It's lewd and wrong. If you must drool find a boy your own age. What about that nice kid Charlie you dated a bit ago?"

Snorting, Sam pushed away from the window and headed upstairs slowly.

"Uh, you mean Charlie with the twenty wandering hands? The one who took me to a movie and spent the whole two hours trying to wind his limbs around me. I felt like I was wrestling an octopus! That Charlie? No thanks, mom."

Pauline watched her daughter stomp away and wondered where she went wrong. Sighing, she made sure lunches were packed, the two youngest had their clothing and hair carefully critiqued until they squirmed and begged for freedom.

After the youngest two were on the bus to school she turned her attention to her moody teenagers. As if there were any other kind, she thought to herself. Of course, before going after the teenagers, Pauline took a quick turn into her bathroom.

Taking a few more pills just to get through it, Pauline took a determined breath and headed for the kids. She made sure all paperwork was had, that they both looked good in their ROTC uniforms. Reminded them of their schedules, suggested they spend some time also working on their upcoming exams.

As each child was finishing up and lining upon the porch, there was a sudden rush of large male bodies in the kitchen. Pauline felt as if a tornado of Old Spice and some new cologne by some rap singer was strangling her. Her son Matt was eating half of a pop tart while he ran through and struggle into his shoes.

His hands were full with a cell phone, lap top and an unzipped back with papers flying out of it. With a heavy sigh Pauline watched as her husband eat the other half of that damned pop tart. With a small abashed smile, Manny gave her stiff shoulder a small rub.

"It's just pop tarts, sweetheart. One small treat breakfast won't ruin our diets or health. You need to relax, Pauline. Do you have yoga today?"

Pauline gave a stiff smile back and really did try to relax with no good results.

"Yes, I am using my lunch hour for it. I need to be at the PTA meeting this afternoon so I'll be leaving a bit early from work. God, look at the time! Matt, you are a senior in high school and what kind of example are you setting with such a scattered looking backpack? Get it together, don't be late for school again! I swear giving you that old truck was the worst idea."

Pauline's little girl poked her head through the door. Pauline raised her eyebrows with impatience at Ally.

"Hey, mommy? Big raccoon is here and I'm gonna pet it. Okay, bye."

 

Edna hummed softly to herself as she walked past the living room and saw her grandson Greg using his weights. She really did wish he wouldn't use the picture window for his exercising. Her husband Bernard went through so much trouble to clean out the basement for Greg to use as his personal space. Greg kept everything down there even his several expensive exercise machines.

Yet every few days he would come upstairs and do this show for the children next door. Edna was afraid he might be having a little crush on the sweet teenage girl next door. That girl was too young and her mother was protective, if it was a crush, it was a doomed one. Not that Edna will tell him that. Edna has always believed in allowing children to learn from mistakes on their own as long as they weren't dangerous.

That is how she raised her daughter and how she treated the students in her care as a teacher. Of course she was retired now and Edna's daughter married and moved on years ago. Edna only saw her daughter and her family on holidays. She cannot afford to fly West to visit them and her workaholic daughter never has time to come to visit. Only twice a year for so long.

So when Greg called her and asked if he could move in, Edna was thrilled. She and Bernard even got a little reckless the night of that phone call. They each had a full glass of wine with a dinner at a restaurant in town. They didn't get home until nine at night and then things got a little heated. The rare drink must have made them a bit tipsy and Bernard had smiled with those shining dentures.

"This is the night, Edna. The one I promised you was going to happen. Are you ready for it, my dear?"

Edna had blushed and impulsively she had flown to her husband of fifty five years to embrace him. An hour later both were snuggling and cooing at the new plump kitten they adopted at the local shelter. They got there just before they closed.

"Oh, Bernard! This has been the most wonderful night. Thank you so much."

"I always aim to satisfy, dear."

Sighing, Edna shook her head of memories and headed into her cave as Greg calls it. Picking up her latest craft, a quite atrocious wreath made of cat heads with Santa hats. Retirement has brought some boredom and Edna kept receiving advice to try classes. So she went to a crafts class. The students had to learn to familiarize themselves with crafting tools then create something.

On her first try, Edna crafted a lovely potpourri hanger for her bathroom. The teacher and her classmates seemed horrified at the cats carefully sewn into the design of the pouch. Even Bernard seemed to be disquieted by it but was kind enough to compliment it and say nothing further. When Greg moved in he went into the bathroom and yelped.

"Oh my God! Why would you want disembodied cat heads with glowing eyes and snarling, sharp teeth staring at you while you use the toilet?"

Edna persisted in her crafts, creating one horror after the next. It soothes her and gives her something to do when her programs aren't on. When the house is cleaned and Edna is restless, it helps. A cat rubbed against Edna's leg and another leaped onto the crafts table. It had turned out their kitten was older than they had thought. And had been pregnant.

The kittens were adorable if a bit hard to care for and keep track of. There were five of them and Edna will not adopt them out until they are old enough for it. Bernard had shook his head and said that Edna will never decide they are old enough to leave. Edna gave a tiny laugh as the little scamp on the table started to tangle himself into a box of knitting.

A siren suddenly cut through the air and Edna stood fast, her bones creaking in surprised protest. The siren cut off then a whooping sound of a police car.

"THERE HAS BEEN AN ACCIDENT AND CHEMICAL LEAK AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS CUL DE SAC. A BLOCKADE HAS BEEN PUT IN PLACE FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY. YOU WILL BE INFORMED WHEN YOU ARE ALLOWED TO LEAVE THIS AREA. PLEASE REMAIN CALM."


	4. Something Slithering By

Bob couldn't fucking believe it.  
Everyone in his house knew it and so did the whole neighborhood as he stormed towards the barricades, roaring.

Hal had anticipated this and was already there. He was dressed in his most expensive somber outfit and had his hair, nails and teeth done as if for a shield. His handsome face was composed as Bob came like a rabid lion.

Bob did not stop until several other folks who had come to ask about the "accident" gasped when a rifle was pointed at Bob's head.

Hal cleared his throat and glanced nervously at the good old boys whom had this job passed down to them too. To guard the sacred area until the ritual was complete. For three days these men will tirelessly patrol.

Hal moved a little out of the way of the man with the rifle and spoke.

"Bob! Remember you can't cross the barricade. Until three days of repair have been done. I'm sorry but we did discuss all the details to you the other day. Remember that? If you want to, give me or any of the others a call, okay? I can leave the line open for only us to answer you if you want. We can coach you through it, if need be. But you need to calmly go home and take care of your family, understand me?"

Hal looked around nervously at the confused and now scared witnesses stared at the guns.

"Besides, we don't want all these folks getting upset and rioting. If they try to leave, they will be shot and killed instantly. Do you want that to happen? Calm down and then calm down your neighborhood. Tell them all to go home, please."

But.

It was all ready too late for leaving.

 

White, ice cold, so white, beyond albino, there is no white crayon ever created to look this color. It was fresh snow in a graveyard, it was terrible, it was alien, it was old and it was dead flesh rising. Slithering, skittering, crawling with no sound, well almost no sound.

There was a small ticking due to hard long nails that curved to protect the white moist flesh of its palms. It sounded like mice in a heat grate, it sounded like a small rustling through a dark private space someone is trying to hide, it felt like terror, it felt like someone peeking inside painful things.

It slid through pipes, skittered through heat ducts, slithered through attics and crawled into basements. Doors meant nothing and it visited homes. A dry tongue flickered, played along cracked lips and black eyes, stone cold, reflective like a terrible mirror. Hungrily, it anticipated the delicious feed at certain homes.

Lovingly rubbed itself among the Carters living room rug. Sniffing deeply, smelling out the bitter rot within a loving family structure was always nearly orgasmic. It crept about, touching things in every room.

Sliding it's cold body along the children's rooms made it curve lips into a slow smile. The movement caused the lips to split further but there were just bloodless deep lines.

After visiting the master bedroom, the creature moved onward to another home. It made a frantic beeline towards the Murphy home, oh it was a different kind of food.

Consuming of the wholesome Carters was like a gourmet meal, carefully made then savored while eaten. This was a home full of darkness, chaos. This was like having fast food but everyone yearns for a fast food item at some point and it is meant for devouring,loving and forgotten.

It ran fingers dancing along the walls, along pictures covered with dust. Licked grease out of a pan on the stove, it had been there for at four days. Laying on the sweat stained bed of a tormented mother, smoothing out a crinkled horror poster in a boy's room. Weaving back and forth clutching a teddy bear in another room.

Moving on, another home was found. Running thin limbs over Greg's weights in a basement. It tilted it's head to stare at the cat crafts then tapped one with a claw. With a pleased hissing sound, it moved onward.

Standing at a picture window, it could feel the teenage girl who stood there earlier that morning. The smile again. Not an inch of Pauline's house was left untouched.

Tired of such exertion after so long, the creature wandered a bit more, random places just to add a bit more to it's rare meal. Then it slithered down in a dark place that no one would see it and waited.

It would feel when they were ready.


	5. Tick, Tick, Boom

Vicki felt she deserved a motherfucking reward. Not only for NOT murdering her family, not only for not murdering the drunk wildlife and not even attempting to fight with the Coopers. She wanted it for doing all that sober.

She did not manage to deal with the situation with any grace, true, but it was dealt with. Amid the screaming and cursing they all did at each other, they managed to clean up their yard.

The one thing no person in the neighborhood could say was that she beat her kids.

No fucking way, her parents and Steve's parents pulled enough beatings for the rest of their family lines. The Murphy's scream and yell, make threats, pull cruel pranks, use each other, bully each other but damn it, they don't hurt each other. They save the hurt for the humans outside of their door.

Some critical cunts would and do say that Vicki and Steve hurt their family in other ways. Drinking, smoking, disorganized, cluttered and it is no real secret that they smoke pot. Vicki always has a response, but if for some reason she is unable to speak, Steve would have a response. The kids have responses too.

A door slammed and her small, stocky frame was obscured by a wall of teenager.

"Trevor, if you tell me you are going to be late or you aren't going to school, I swear I'll have a very late term abortion."

"Hear the sirens coming? There's a blockade at the end of the cul de sac. Been a chemical spill and we all are stuck home today. I'm heading up the hill, I want to go see the truck. Maybe it's radioactive and we can become mutants."

Vicki whacked her head softly into the cabinet and tried not to cry as she now heard the sirens and the warnings.

"Fine. Don't get too close to whatever the fuck it is over there, alright? Don't fight with anyone if they tell you to move, you move. Where's your sister and father then?"

Door slammed again as long reddish blonde hair flew past the window. Seventeen and he looks like a linebacker or perhaps a tank. It's flesh, muscle and fat all in one. On a boy who never exercises, just raw build with no where to go but eventual fat.

Known as a bully, known as a threatening ball of sarcasm, wit and rage. At the same time, Trevor is also known as one of the funniest kids in his school. Teachers have a habit of despising him or utterly loving him.

A moment later Steve trudged up the stairs heavily as a fourteen year old chattered non stop into his ear.

"Mom, oh my god, it's all blocked off and there was a truck it spilled chemicals. Trevor said we will all become mutants and I was telling Dad what super powers I wanted. But Dad said that it would be deformities not super powers. Can I follow Trevor to see the chemical spill?"

"We are not becoming mutants, Nikki. No, you can't go up the hill. Why don't you go online and chat with your friends about hanging out? Go put your backpack away first in your room."

Steve felt his way to the coffeepot and refused to speak or include anyone in his reality until he took a sip of his coffee. Vicki waited, knowing her husband will need to vent.

"First I had to wake early because we had an open fucking bar for wildlife. Then I had to listen to you and the kids shriek while picking up a week's worth of trash. It sounded like a seagull raping a recorder that came to life. All this before my coffee. On the one day I could go in late. Then I discover that a spill serious enough to be quarantined, but not serious enough for news is going on? I mean, it's fucking rednecks with guns and Hal fucking Sampson down there. Can't get anything out of them either. Hell, they scared Bob Jones away. I'm kind of worried here."

"Fuck. I told Trevor he could go up the hill." Vicki snarled and threw open a cabinet and swallowed down two pills. She threw back on her sneakers.

"No. No more going out today in pajamas with sneakers. Go put put yourself together, I'm already dressed. Soon as I finish my coffee, I'll go after him. Trevor won't go straight there. All the other kids are milling around, he'll end up talking for a half hour."

"Really? I doubt it." Vicki and Steve stared at each other in a silent, ancient traditional way. Steve dropped his eyes first, cursing and slamming his half full coffee cup into the sink. "Fine, but if I have to go now, then I want to be left alone for at least three hours of gaming. Whenever I choose to use it! Hear me!"

Vicki took her win with grace and smiled. "Fine. Three hours of gaming without interruptions. Now go tell Trevor to stay away from the hill. Love you."

She staggered only slightly on the stairs this time. Grasping tightly to the banister, Vicki up the few stairs to the second half level. A few leaps over some stacked books and one stubbed toe into Magic the Gathering cards to reach the landing. Vicki heard Nikki's voice singing along to some new horror pop singer.

Vicki grinned at the sound and she headed into the bathroom to shower. The sound of the shower water rushing from the rusty shower head obscured the singing. It also hid the strange scratching sound but only until the water stopped. It wasn't a big deal to Vicki. It was fall after all and they have begun to use the heater at night.

Heat rushing through vents makes the metal pop and bang a bit. And sometimes mice enjoy playing in those vents so it might even be some confused rodents that haven't left yet. Of course, these are reasonable thoughts and it answered it all for Vicki. She had no interest in the sound and dismissed it completely for her mind.

The pills have kicked in and the world looks a little more tolerable. Vicki flexed her limbs and had a moment of glorious non pain. What the doctors call incurable, what the doctors say will never end, has momentarily stopped. The pain will return, flooding her body later and the anguish in her mind will return harder. It doesn't matter, Vicki doesn't want to think of that shit.

So the ticking was put away for now in Vicki's mind and she left to dress and smash the fuck out of the morning.

Nikki was the next person in the bathroom and she heard the ticking too. It was loud and distressed. Like Nikki's mind always was and it pierced inwards, slicing through the mind. She sat on the toilet and stared with bulging eyes at the heat grate.

Out of the corner of her eye she could have sworn she saw something. It was bone white, it was thin, it was searching, poking out of the metal lattice.


End file.
